


Fat Bottomed Angels

by madlysanecatlady



Series: The Nice and Accurate Ineffable Husbands Compendium [5]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fat bottomed girls, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-08 00:37:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19096186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madlysanecatlady/pseuds/madlysanecatlady
Summary: One of Crowley's favourite foisted-upon-him songs is a bit of an eyebrow raiser.





	Fat Bottomed Angels

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Brian May for writing my favourite most goshdarn catchy song that has been stuck in my head for three weeks now.

Now, the music the tapes had morphed into wasn’t all that terrible, reasoned Aziraphale. Yes it was, well, rather heavier than he generally enjoyed his melodies, but the arrangements were clever, thoughtful, and all around masterfully executed, which was not something he had really come to expect out of modern composers. He had, quite understandably thank you very much, come to the conclusion that _good_ music had died with the last great composers a good century ago. The delightful band Crowley had informed him was called Queen had so unexpectedly changed his mind.

The guitars melded quite seamlessly with the bassline in an unexpected harmony. The voice arrangements were comparable to some of the better choirs Aziraphale had had the pleasure of watching over the years. It seemed Crowley had come to enjoy it as well. Aziraphale was unsure if it was due to the nature of the music or if he had developed somewhat of a stockholm syndrome type response to the sound of Queen blaring from his car speakers. Whatever the reason, it gave Aziraphale a good deal of joy to see the demon so happily engrossed in the music.

_Oooohhhh you’re gonna take me home tonight._

‘Oh! This song is great!’ Crowley beamed, turning the volume dial up a little. ‘Drink it in, angel, I think you’ll like this one too.’

Aziraphale was already rather of the mind that the voice harmony was rather lovely. The gentlemen in this band were very talented vocalists. If only Heaven were less, well, absolutely _dull_ , they could have been an angelic choir. He smiled and settled in to listen more closely.

The lyrics settled in his ears and Aziraphale frowned. Was Crowley attempting to cruelly draw attention to the fact that his millennia of culinary appreciation were beginning to show rather more dramatically? He had been becoming more and more self-conscious about the softening of his midsection and the surrounding areas, but he had been rather naively hoping that no one else would have actually noticed.

Although. _Although_. This song appeared to be so very… positive. It was an ode to padding, a love song to love handles. And Crowley was singing along quite exuberantly. He belted out the lyrics, out of key and sounding very deliberately so, and hit his palms atop the steering wheel in time with the song’s beat. It was quite clear that he genuinely liked the song.

Crowley turned to Aziraphale with a grin as the guitar briefly took over the melody line between verses. ‘What do you think, angel? Great song, right?’

‘It certainly has a very upbeat melody,’ Aziraphale said after a moment’s thought, watching Crowley closely. He frowned when the demon’s brows furrowed.

‘Too modern for you? No, you liked the last one,’ Crowley’s furrow turned into a full frown. ‘Angel, you’re not feeling self-conscious, are you?’

Aziraphale huffed loudly, knowing he wasn’t even fooling himself in his fake shock but still too stubborn to not try. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Angel, it’s no secret you’re getting a little soft round the hips,’ Crowley winked, his smile wicked. ‘A couple centuries of crepes and champagne will have that effect on any corporation, and yes, yours included. But it’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s all part of your charm.’

Aziraphale felt his cheeks growing red and was about to bluster out a response, but fell silent when the chorus vocals returned, Crowley singing in key this time, his voice honestly quite lovely against the harmony of voices.

_Ooooh Are you gonna take me home tonight?_  
_Ooooh, down beside that red firelight?_  
_Are you gonna let it all hang out?_  
_Fat bottomed angels make the rockin' world go 'round_  
_Yeah, he shot Aziraphale a teasing wink._  
_Fat bottomed angels make the rockin' world go 'round_

The song’s outro proceeded, Crowley still grinning and looking very pleased with himself. He, worryingly, took one hand from the steering wheel and not slowing his speed by a single kilometre, and patted a gentle hand to Aziraphale’s small but still noticeable paunch. ‘Absolutely nothing to be worried about, angel. It just means you’re happy and embracing life here.’

‘Yes, well, I hardly… well, there’s no… I don’t think… what on earth would possess you to sing that?’ Aziraphale managed finally as an embarrassed splutter.

‘You’re sitting there thinking you aren’t perfect and beautiful, angel, I can’t have that,’ Crowley looked away finally and back at the road, his grin disappearing as Aziraphale watched a delicate shade of pink spread across handsome cheeks. ‘You’re gorgeous inside and out angel, fat bottom included.’

The heart in Aziraphale’s chest that had come with the Heaven-issued body skipped a few of its rapid beats. He stared dumbly at the blushing demon for a minute before he was able to remember how to move. He smiled and reached out to take one of Crowley’s hands atop the steering wheel, feeling a small tremble at his touch.

‘The shop hasn’t got a fireplace,’ he said quietly, honestly a little relieved Crowley was not quite meeting his gaze at those words.

The demon looked over at him, visibly shocked. He smiled when his eyes met the angel’s soft ones. ‘Mine has.’

Aziraphale swallowed down the bundle of nerves in his throat. ‘Then, dear, won’t you take me home tonight?’

‘Angel, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,’ Crowley turned his hand over to lace their fingers together, opting to commit to one-handed steering for the rest of the way. ‘Fat bottom or no, you make my rockin’ world go ‘round.’

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely no excuse or logic behind this. Not a one.


End file.
